


Revolutionary

by Arden (ArdenLa)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dancer AU, F/M, Mentions of sex work, Modern AU, Stripper AU, Stripping, solas rarepair, solasmance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:04:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474448
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdenLa/pseuds/Arden
Summary: Eirwen Surana is a favorite at one of the best gentlemen's clubs in Val Royeaux. One patron is particularly fond of her, showing up every night to tip her well and compliment her dancing. He's handsome and apparently very wealthy, but strange in a way she can't quite describe. One night he asks her to go to dinner with him, leading to an experience she won't soon forget.





	1. Chapter 1

She looked him up and down, unimpressed. “I don’t normally do this.”

“Nor do I.” The man before her glanced down at his clothes, then sighed. “It has been a… long day. Ir abelas.”

“I’m not Dalish. Speaking elvhen doesn’t impress me or anything.” She pursed her lips and leaned into the wall, raising her voice over the cheering around them. “Besides, I don’t even normally do outside work. Or penetration. None of that.”

“I assure you, that is not what I am looking for.” He paused, then held out his hand. Another crisp twenty lay inside, and she hesitated a moment before sighing and taking it.

“Fine. I don’t do toilet things either, understand? Or anal.”

“As I said, I am not looking for anything like that.”

She glanced at the dancer on the stage and shifted her weight, trying to assess whether this man was safe. “When do you need me?”

“Preferably tomorrow night. I’ll pay for a taxi from your place to mine.”

“I’m not telling you where I live.”

“Fair enough. A place near where you live, then.”

She considered this, then nodded. “Okay. The corner of Cherry and Dusting.” He nodded and took a note in his phone, but she spoke up before he could leave. “You… you’re real weird, you know?”

“Am I?” There was a ghost of a smirk on her face -or maybe she imagined it. 

She nodded again, crossing her arms. “You come here at the same time every Thursday, buy exactly two Negronis, watch Sparks and I dance, tip us generously, and then… leave. You don’t even talk to anyone else. And you are far too dressed up for this. It’s not exactly a high-class place,” she added, eyeing a drunken regular stumbling about while one of the waitresses tried to calm him down. “But… tomorrow night. Okay. I’ll be at the corner at… what time exactly?”

“Six-thirty.”

“Okay.” She took out her phone and put in a reminder. “Do you want me to… wear anything specific?”

“Do you have a black cocktail dress?”

She blushed slightly, not expecting the question, and then laughed. “Um, sure. And… shoes?”

He smirked, genuinely this time. “Whatever you are most comfortable in.”

“Well, alright. Should I eat beforehand?”

“No, we can get something later.”

“Are you just… paying me to go on a date?” She raised an eyebrow, watching him carefully. He wasn’t her type, not really, but he had to be someone’s. His face wasn’t entirely displeasing, and he had a nice voice. 

“Ha! No, I am not. I am, however, asking you to trust me. You have my word that I will ask nothing of you I would not do myself.”

“The word of… a stranger who visits the strip club I work in.”

He nodded, more relaxed now than he had been before. “Six-thirty, Eirwen.”

“Six-thirty, right. And… you never told me your name.” 

He started to back away from her, heading for the door. “Solas.”

“Solas,” she said to herself, still confused as she watched him go.

…

She met him at seven, after taking a taxi ride from her place to an absurdly nice events center, and wore a tight black minidress with short white heels and a glimmering silver necklace. Her thick black hair was pulled back into a tight bun, with the bulk of it sticking out from the elastic like a halo around her head. 

At first she was confused. He’d given her nothing to expect and yet somehow she was still surprised. She wandered outside, looking for some sign of what she was doing there, but only found posters of upcoming events that all looked far too nice for her. There were acrobats and singers and comedians giving performances within a month, all with bright red ‘sold out’ stamps. She couldn’t imagine someone actually buying tickets to see her and only her. One of the posters showed a beautiful pair of dancers, a man and a woman, dressed in stunning clothes. The man dipped the woman low, and the words above the pair read: “Stunning spectacle!” It was an advertisement for a dancing contest, and apparently all of the competitors were world-class and chosen specifically for that night.

She traced the woman’s outline with her finger and paused when she got to her head. No pointed ears. Of course.

“Eirwen?” She turned to see the man from her club standing before her, hands held behind his back, dressed in an impeccable three-piece suit. Her eyes widened and it must have been obvious she was gawking because he chuckled. “A pleasure to see you. I’m very happy you decided to come by.”

“Of course. I keep my word,” she said, measured and careful. “What are we doing here?”

He said nothing, just nodded at the door. Though confused, she followed him between a pair of great Tevinter-style columns and into the building. It was quiet inside, except for the soft clicking of her heels, and her heart picked up the longer the silence grew between them. But she couldn’t think of anything to say. She was no high-class escort, and somehow she felt anyone who saw them would know immediately that she was a ‘stripper.’ Normally she had no shame over what she did, but here? This was not her place -not a place for any elf, really, but he didn’t seem intimidated at all.

They finally stopped walking outside a door tucked away in a dark hall at the backside of the building. He fished a set of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door, then gestured for her to go inside. “After you, lethallan.”

Her footsteps echoed in the darkness as she stepped inside, the sound moving so far she knew they had a huge space. “Solas, I-” But as she began to speak bright lights clanged to life above her, and she found herself staring at a wide, tall mirror that covered the entirety of one wall.

This was a dance studio, the kind she hadn’t been in since she was very small. And even then, this was much nicer than where she’d practiced. 

She looked at him, confused, as he walked to the large stereo system in the corner of the room. “I don’t understand.”

A gentle classical tune came on, something graceful and soft. He stood slowly and came to face her, holding out his arm as he approached her. “Dance with me.”

After a moment of hesitation she nodded and took his hand. He put one hand on her waist and closed his fingers around hers in the other. Then he took the first step, and she followed. It was easy, a slow song meant for practice, but it seemed to please him. She was still terribly lost, but before she could think to ask another question he spoke up. “I apologize for the lack of information, Eirwen. I did not want to scare you away, or seem presumptuous.”

“I… what is this?”

They stepped together, then apart. “You are a beautiful dancer. Easily the best in your club, possibly one of the best untrained dancers I have ever seen.”

“You’re blinded by tits,” she said sharply, suddenly drawing him in close.

He laughed. “Then surely I would have offered this to many women, yes? You are talented in a way none of the other girls are. You are enticing.” She swallowed hard, not sure what to make of that, but kept step with him easily. “Even now, you learn so quickly…” He spun her and she moved like a top, returning back to his arms in a tight twirl. 

“What am I doing here, Solas? What is this all about?”

“You saw the posters outside, yes?” She nodded. “There is a dance competition here, in a month’s time, and my previous partner is no longer interested.”

“And why is that?”

He paused, faltering for the first time. “The officials do not take kindly to elves, lethallan.” They moved swiftly now, picking up with the pace of the music. “She was scared. But you…” He dipped her low, making her gasp, then pulled her up sharply. “I know you are unafraid.”

“And h-how do you know that?”

“Two months ago I saw you punch a patron square in the mouth for calling your friend a knife-ear. Three weeks ago, you threw a glass at a man who threatened to cut off your ears. And last week, I recall you drunkenly telling another elvhen patron that, ah, how do I put it… ‘all these shems can shove off, they don’t know good dancing when it’s in their lap.’“

“Aha…” She blushed again and laughed nervously, looking away from him. “That, ah… that does sound like me.”

“Do not be bashful.” He shook his head, tucking a hand under her chin and tilting her face to look at him. “Think of it: two elves, showing up a dozen world-class human dancers, on their own stage.”

She smiled softly. “It is… enticing.”

He spun her again, suddenly, and she tripped with a sharp gasp. He caught her, low to the ground, and flashed a smirk that sent a rush of heat between her thighs. “More than that. It is revolutionary.”

Her eyes widened and he helped her stand, the song coming to a fading end. “You’re sure about this? You don’t think we’ll just embarrass ourselves?”

He shook his head. “Not after some more practice.”

“And will you keep… paying me this much?”

He laughed and nodded. “Of course. Dancing is your work, is it not? You deserve to be paid for such expertise.”

She blushed again and her eyes darted away. It was a tantalizing offer, of course. Even if the shems did know she was a different kind of dancer, what did she care? Perhaps it would humiliate them even further to know they had her dancing with their fancy shem ladies. 

She nodded slowly and bit her lip, then looked up at him. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

He smiled and squeezed her fingers, just enough so she knew he was still holding her hand. “Then let the revolution begin.”


	2. Chapter 2

Eirwen leaned back in her seat, frowning, looking over her nails. They gleamed a deep wine red in the bright afternoon light; it was probably time to get them done again. She always hated doing it because it was so expensive, as she had to get the fancy gel or it wouldn’t last at all. 

Her coffee was iced, as always. Summers in Val Royeaux were always so hot and dry that even in the winter she liked the chill. And the coffee at this place was always good. They knew her and made her drink perfectly. 

The door chimed and she ignored it, used to the sound and the strangers that wandered in. But this was different -she heard footsteps coming towards her, felt a presence at her back. With a raised brow she turned, and her eyes widened slightly. 

“Hello,” she said, looking Solas up and down. “You don’t come here very often, do you?”

“I do,” he corrected evenly, a slight smile on his lips. “But in the morning. When you are most likely not awake.”

“That is a correct assumption.”

He went to the counter and ordered a simple black coffee -because of course he did. Then he returned to her, almost nervously. “May I join you?”

“Sure. Don’t get too excited though, I’m off-duty.”

He rolled his eyes and sat across from her, noting her drink. “You like it sweet.”

She nodded. “You like it pretentious.”

He snorted and tilted his head. “You are always so abusive towards me.”

“Mm…” She took a long sip. “And yet still you sit. So,” she nodded toward the window, where bright afternoon light streamed in. “If you normally stop by in the morning, what brings you here now?”

“I am meeting with a friend.”

“Oh? What kind of friend?”

He sat back, smirking. “Why the curiosity?”

“Conversation.” The barista called his name and he stood to get his drink, then returned to her. “They must be late.”

“So it seems,” he cleared his throat and took a careful sip, jaw stiffening at the bitterness. “She never was good with deadlines.”

“She?”

“A friend, Surana. So jealous,” he chided, and she scoffed. But before she could reply a tall, dark-skinned elven woman with straight black hair walked in and smiled softly at him. She was classically, absurdly beautiful, with a loose green shirt and tight blue skinny jeans adorning her statuesque figure.

Eirwen drank and sat back, raising an eyebrow. “You have a type.”

He glowered at her before gesturing for the woman to join them. She smiled and walked to them, her cork wedges clicking on the hardwood floor of the cafe. “Ina,” he said, standing to hug her. She smiled and squeezed him tightly before stepping back. “It’s so nice to see you again.” He pulled a chair for her and she sat down, thanking him profusely. 

“Hi,” she said, immediately turning to Eirwen. “Ina Moss. It’s great to finally meet you, Solas has told me such wonderful things.”

“Has he?” Eirwen smirked at him, noting the slight twitch in his lips at her tone.

“Ina was originally my partner for this competition,” he explained, looking between the two girls. “She’s a dance student at VRU.”

“Really?” Eirwen raised an eyebrow, looking at her. “As an elf? How does that go?”

“About as well as you’d expect,” Ina replied, her smile fading. “There are only three of us in the entire major. It’s… difficult to get in even as a shem, but for elves?” She shook her head.

“You must be very good then,” Eirwen offered, earning another ‘look’ from Solas. 

“I mean…” Ina laughed, sitting forward a bit and looking Eirwen in the eye. “I’ve been practicing for a long time.”

“It helps that you’re so gorgeous,” Eirwen replied, her intention with such a compliment unclear. Ina blushed, looking taken aback. 

“Aha, thank you. You’re very pretty yourself, though. Are you Rivaini?”

Eirwen nodded. “Are you?”

“Half. My mother is Antivan-Dalish, my father is from Llomerryn. I used to visit when I was young. It’s such a beautiful country.”

“Would you like anything to drink, Ina?” Solas interjected. 

Ina laughed and nodded, standing. “I came all this way and didn’t even order anything. What would you recommend?”

“Iced vanilla bean-”

“Just black-”

Solas and Eirwen spoke at the same time, making Ina laugh awkwardly. “I… think I’ll get a cappuccino. Thanks.”

As soon as she was out of earshot Solas turned to Eirwen, who was smirking. “What?”

“Nothing. I just know why you always watch me now.”

“What? No. She’s- we are friends, Eirwen.”

“How did you meet?”

“She- does it matter?”

Eirwen raised an eyebrow. 

“She was my client.”

“Maker’s breath, Solas, seriously?”

“What? It wasn’t anything unseemly. She was in a car accident and the perpetrator didn’t have insurance. Not every one of my cases is scandalous, you know.”

“She is beautiful.”

“You are beautiful, and I’m not hearing any more of this.”

Before Eirwen could respond Ina returned with her drink. She sat down and Solas glared at Eirwen, who was smirking playfully and looking far too confident for her own good. 

“Ina,” Solas said, looking at her. “Would you like to take your drink elsewhere? Eirwen is heading to work soon.”

“No I’m not. I’m cat-sitting during the day, I think Lady Guinevere will be fine.”

Ina snorted, leaning toward Eirwen. “The cat’s name is Lady Guinevere?”

“She’s very fluffy and white, and very, very spoiled. Want to see pictures?”

“Yes, so much.”

Solas rolled his eyes and finished his coffee, sitting back as the two women giggled over pictures of a fat white cat. He didn’t know what to make of this; Eirwen was never actually supposed to meet Ina. 

“You should come meet her sometime, she’s very sweet once you feed her.”

“Oh, I’d love to, but I’m actually leaving for Starkhaven soon.”

“Really?” Eirwen asked, surprised. “What are you doing there?”

Ina smiled, pride gleaming in her eyes. “I got cast in a show. It’s a full year, maybe more, and I get paid more than I ever would in Orlais.”

“Wow… that’s amazing. What show?”

“The Daughter of Witches. It’s a famous story from northern Ferelden, and it’s original run in Ostwick was massively popular.”

“I think I’ve heard of it.” More than heard of it- Eirwen loved that show. She’d read copies of the script when she was younger and never forgotten it. The story was about a young girl who grows up with apostates and is forced to join the Circle when she gets caught. But rather than wallowing in misery or lamenting the loss of her old life, the girl becomes stronger through her experience and eventually becomes Court Mage to the emperor. It gave her hope when she was younger that being a mage wasn’t such a curse, and she used to imagine being as strong and brave as the girl in the show.

Her heart sank, but she didn’t want to admit why. “I’m so lucky to have such a great opportunity,” Ina said, and Eirwen smiled politely at her. 

“Yeah. It sounds amazing.” She cleared her throat and smiled, standing slowly. “Well, now it actually is time for me to go.” It wasn’t, but she felt too sick to stay. “Guinevere needs to be let out.”

“Oh! Well, it was so good to meet you.” Ina stood and hugged Eirwen tightly, then grinned as she pulled away. “You’re going to do amazing, I know it. Hopefully we’ll see each other again before I leave, but if not, best of luck.”

“You too.” She nodded to Solas. “I’ll see you tonight?”

“Perhaps. I’ll see how much work I have.”

She waved goodbye to both of them and headed out, wandering back toward the house she was cat-sitting at. Her heart hurt. Her chest felt heavy. It was stupid, she knew it. If anything she should be happy to see another elven woman doing so well, but something about it hurt. If Ina could be so successful, why couldn’t she?

Her phone vibrated and she paused, looking at it.

[Dance-man] Are you alright?

Solas could tell, which meant Ina probably could too. She sat down on a bench and looked out at the street. Night would fall soon enough, and she would be dancing again. She couldn’t pretend her work made her unhappy -she loved the lights and the music and being the center of attention. And dancing made her happy even if she was alone in an empty room. But meeting Ina, seeing what she could have been, sent a hollow soreness shuddering through her chest.

Her phone vibrated again.

[Dance-man] Let’s get an early dinner. You don’t start work until 8, right? We can meet at 5.

[Me] Just us?

[Dance-man] Is that a problem?

[Me] No. Is Bertel’s fine?

[Dance-man] You read my mind. I’ll pick you up in an hour then.

[Me] Okay.

She had a chance with this. With him. They could work hard and blow away the rest of the competition. They could be so good that giving them anything less than victory would be a crime. 

She had to prove to herself that she could be something. She had to win.


	3. Chapter 3

“You seem off tonight.” Solas looked up, drawn from his stupor by a tall, thin woman in dark high heels and a tight-fitting velvet dress. He’d know her voice anywhere, and her body from any angle. Eirwen wore a curious, almost-concerned expression even as she stepped back to let another dancer pass. “I mean, you’re usually pretty weird, but you’re, like, extra dissociative.”

He sighed and shook his head, not bothering to force a smile. “Ir abelas, da’len. I have been better.”

She eyed his suit, noting how he’d already loosened his tie and apparently hadn’t ironed his shirt recently. “Anything I can help with?” He didn’t answer her at first, then nodded. 

“Perhaps. A Boulevardier. No -two.”

“You- wow, you don’t usually get bourbon this early. You know it’s only nine, right?”

He chuckled softly. “I am aware of the time, yes. Please, da’len, you know I tip well.” She nodded and left him for the bar, more concerned than she’d like to be about his state of mind. They were dance partners, that’s all. Casual acquaintances. They owed each other nothing, and she certainly had no business worrying about him. 

But in their practices, usually before her work or on her days off, they were close. For a few short hours they were the only people in the room, and she could dance for an audience of one. There was something at once both intimate and isolating in those quiet moments, in the way he held her when he dipped her low or how his chest felt pressed to hers. 

He was always so professional with her, so restrained. Though he never had a problem touching her, he was stone-faced and silent while the music played -unless he was giving her instructions. And mostly, it was perfect. She didn’t want to do this for him, she wanted it for herself. He was there to help her get what she wanted and nothing more. 

Still, the subtle pain in his eyes made him more. They could be friends. They could be more.

With her almost-instinctual flirtatious smile she returned to him, carrying a tray of drinks. “Two Boulevardiers, for the lonely elf in the corner.”

He rolled his eyes but thanked her. “This is hardly a corner. I am in the center of the room.”

“Yeah, but the quiet part.” She paused, watching him down his cocktail far too fast to enjoy it. “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing that concerns you,” he replied, his voice flat and clear.

“Oh, okay, ouch.”

“I did not mean…” He sighed heavily and sat back in his chair. “There is no need to burden you. It will not affect our dancing, or how much I pay you.”

She said nothing after that, just replayed his words in her head. Somehow, she tended to forget about the money. He paid her handsomely for her time, for every practice. He always bought dinner if they went out, and tipped her highly whenever he was at the club. That, she knew, had to complicate their relationship. 

“A private dance,” he said suddenly, and she pulled herself from her trance to look at him. 

“Yeah, we do that a lot.”

“No. You know what kind I mean.” He was almost done with his second drink. She watched him, eyes flicking between his glass and his face. “In a private room.”

“Oh!” She blinked, surprised both at herself for being so oblivious and at him for asking at all. He’d never asked for a private dance, he never even stayed close to the stage. He was more the type to hang back nearer the bar, watching, drinking, occasionally chatting up a waitress or two. “Of course. Now?”

He hesitated a moment, finished his drink, then nodded with a cringe. “You have… very strong cocktails here.”

“You ordered very strong cocktails.” She crossed her arms and watched him stand with a slight wobble. “Solas, come on. You’re being… weird.”

“I will be fine,” he said, attempting a lighter tone. “I will have a Bone Dry Martini, then just water.”

“I… seriously?”

He smirked sideways at her and she sighed. “Alright. Go to the private rooms in the back, tell the bouncer Eirwen sent you. I’ll meet you there shortly with your drink.” He nodded and stood, walking with surprising coordination towards a large human bouncer standing outside a long and narrow hallway.

She got him his drink and joined him in a sizable, curtained-off room with a red velvet couch and small black tables at either end. He glanced up when she walked in, smiling distantly. 

As she set his drink down she gently pushed him back again the seat, using one finger on his shoulder. “Whatever this is… you are sure you don’t want to talk about it?”

“It is better not to. Besides,” he eyed her, blue eyes sweeping down her slim figure. “I am here for you tonight, da’len.”

She raised an eyebrow and laughed, her voice soft. “For me? I’m flattered. Are you not always here for me?” She saw how his gaze faltered, locking on her hips for a moment before he forced them back to her eyes. 

“I misspoke. You are right.” He sipped his martini and loosened his tie even more, eyes narrowing. “I am always here for you.”

“Good.” She eased herself into his lap, one knee on either side of him. “Do you know the rules?”

“No touching.” He smirked. “I would never.”

“Mm… I’d hate to see you thrown out.” She reached above him, her small breasts briefly in his face and her back arched as she pressed a few buttons over his head. The music from outside seemed to dull as another song played over it, a slow but bass-heavy beat overlaid with aching female vocals. She shifted back to him, smirking. “Unfortunately, you have already seen much of what I can do.”

His eyes darkened and he held his hands at his sides, trying to keep his gaze on her face. “I highly doubt that.”

She laughed, a sound that sent a shudder through his blood. As they music built she slowly rolled her hips, rocking them back and forth, her dress hitching to the top of her thighs. He could just barely see the bright blue of her lace panties when she drew her body back, bending impressively, showing him how flexible she really was.

She returned to him, dark hair partially covering her face. There was a slight part to his lips, a hunger in his eyes. This was working. She eased back from him, standing slowly, spreading her legs to let him appreciate the hard-won muscles of her thighs and calves. Moving in perfect time, keeping sync with the music as it swelled and swayed and bounced, she strode a few steps away from him and bent over, letting him see the pert shelf of her ass. The lace of her underwear barely covered anything, and he could just barely see the outline of her outer labia through the fabric -or maybe that was just wishful thinking.

She stood, looking at him over her shoulder with a devilish smirk. He forced himself to return her expression, having only then realized he was almost slack-jawed. 

With deliberate, calculated movements she crept back to him, climbing into his lap, biting her lower lip. His hands twitched at his side, his empty glass sitting on the table. She saw the slight movement, knew he was losing control, and suddenly grabbed his wrists. He gasped quietly, looking up at her, his arms pinned above his head and held back against the wall. She leaned in, using his wrists for leverage, so close their lips could touch. 

“That’s enough,” he hissed. 

“What?” She breathed, unable to hide her alarm. She eased herself off him, letting him stand -or try to. He stumbled and braced himself against the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. “Are you going to be sick? There’s a trash can right there…”

He shook his head and leaned into the wall, breathing. “I have to go.”

“No, you’ve had too much. Just… let me call you a cab at least.”

“I can walk. It’s fine.” He turned around, blinking hard, and she walked up to him. She put a gentle hand on his upper arm and squeezed, attempting to ground him. “Da’len… I’ll see you tomorrow. Just… let me go.”

“Solas…” he pushed past her, stumbling back into the hallway. For a few heartbeats she stared after him, heart racing and thoughts a mess. Then her eyes widened, and anger flared in her veins. “Hey! You bastard, get back here!” She walked outside, heels clicking loudly, and saw him leaving through a backdoor. There was already a bouncer going after him. “You didn’t pay!”


	4. Chapter 4

She caught up to him and pushed him against the wall, eyes wide with rage. “So, what, you think you can just fucking leave?! You think you can use me? Just because we work together you think you can treat me like garbage?” She slammed him into the bricks again, making him hiss and cringe in pain. “This is my job, Solas, this is how I make a living. I’m not some fucking toy for you when you get depressed!”

“E.” She felt a firm hand on her shoulder and whipped around, curly hair moving like a stormcloud. As soon as she saw who it was, she relaxed: one of the bouncers, who’d chased Solas outside. “What’s going on out here?” His voice was calm and level, but there was nothing to suggest condescension. The bouncers always took the side of the girls.

“He’s a regular, but he just tried to leave without paying me after a private dance.” She gripped Solas’s collar harder and glared at him. He could do nothing but cringe and peer at her with clouded, vaguely fearful eyes. “I got him though. He’s hammered and he can barely stand up on his own.”

“You sure? I got you, E. You know that.” He took his hand from her shoulder and stepped back, crossing his thick arms over his chest. He looked Solas up and down, saw how well Eirwen had him pinned, then nodded. “I’ll be right inside. We got a camera out here, so anything goes wrong, I’ll come right back out and deal with it, alright?”

“Yes, thank you.” She smiled, still holding Solas flush against the wall. “You’re the best, Deacon.” 

He grinned and nodded to her. “I do what I can.”

As soon as the bouncer was gone Eirwen dropped Solas to the ground, making him groan. He dragged himself to a half-sitting position, his clothing rumpled and his face flushed. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” She asked, her voice strained with frustration. 

“I… I am so, so sorry.”

“Yeah, you better be! Do you know how disrespectful it is to leave without tipping? Or paying for your drinks at the fucking bar?” 

“I do, yes.” He cringed again, visibly in pain.

She exhaled slowly, putting her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

He blinked up at her, grunting as he straightened his posture. She waited, hoping for some kind explanation. Normally he was a model customer, but tonight? Something was obviously off, and she didn’t get paid enough to put up with that. 

“Is it… did I do something wrong?”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Nothing. You are… perfect.”

“Then why? Why come here and be so… so weird?” He kept shaking his head, staring into space, looking every part the drunken businessman having a bad night. She sighed and crouched down in front of him, their eyes finally meeting. “What’s going on? Just tell me. I promise I won’t say anything bad. Hey.” She took one of his hands, making him narrow his eyes in surprise. “I promise.”

He didn’t pull away. “It is… an overreaction, on my part.”

“It’s about Ina, isn’t it?”

His expression didn’t change, even as he stared at her, even as some shred of sobriety returned to his eyes. “Yes.”

“You weren’t just friends, were you?”

“I love her, Eirwen.”

She swallowed hard, running her thumb over his hand. Something heavy weighed in her chest, but she held back any kind of reaction. “What happened?”

“I was holding her back. She didn’t say as much, but I knew. It was a mutual decision, to stop… whatever it was we had.” He sighed and gestured vaguely, shaking his head. “I told her, Eir. I told her how I felt and all she said was ‘I know.’“

Eirwen sunk to her knees and took him into her arms. After a moment he returned her embrace, arms wrapping around her back and holding her so softly she could barely feel it. They said nothing, even as she felt him choke back a drunken sob. 

Slowly, gently, she pulled away. He didn’t want to let go, his hands moving down her arms and giving her a shiver of heartache. “She’s gone, Eir,” he said, so quiet. “She left this morning.” 

“You can still call her. You can still talk to her.”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s not the same.”

“Here.” She held out her hand, and he raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Give me your phone, I have an idea.” Though reluctant, he obeyed, even remembering to unlock it for her. She went to his music app and scrolled through, the blue light giving her face a ghostly glow. 

“What are you…” He trailed off as the music started to play. She took his other hand and stood up, tugging on him to join her.

“Dance with me.”

“This is… this song…” He stood with her, tottering for a moment before steadying himself. “It’s-”

“The first one we danced to together. Come on,” she pulled on him again, smiling now. “Dance with me.”

He exhaled shakily and nodded, entwining his fingers with hers. The audio quality from his phone was questionable but still coherent. The music rose, and he moved carefully with her, matching her graceful steps as best he could. 

The only light nearby was a flickering fluorescent bulb, just over the door to the club. Around them, so near yet so distant, the city clamored with life. If they chose to listen, they could hear the rush of cars and the blare of horns, the trill of ambulances and the shouting of tired barkeeps. But between them was only the static-coated flow of music and the shaky tension in their own breath. The alleyway was a world to them, a hidden realm built for two. 

He squeezed her fingers and followed her steps. For the first time, he let her lead the dance.


	5. Chapter 5

_“He feels the same way, you know.”_

Eirwen bent at her waist, closing her eyes as she stretched out her back and hamstrings. The words of the strange new barista echoed in her head, sending shivers down her spine. 

_“He just doesn’t know how to say it. To himself. Or to you. She’s still there, somehow, because he can’t let go of the red band, or the bracelet, or her hair in the streetlights. But you’re shiny too, and glowing like stars.”_

She’d never seen the young man before, and he was definitely the sort she’d remember. He had ragged blonde hair and sunken eyes, haunted and ill-looking, with a ghostly thin frame. Something about him tickled a sense deep inside of her, but she wasn’t sure what.

His nametag said ‘Cole,’ and that was unfamiliar too. 

But everything the young man said was eerily relevant to her -and despite his newness, her coffee order was perfect. Before she could say anything, before she could ask what he meant, he turned suddenly and vanished into the back of the cafe.

Somehow it was what she needed to hear, even if it didn’t actually make her feel better. The night before, Solas had nearly walked out on her after an unusual request for a private dance, then left quickly after she calmed him down and made him pay. He hadn’t texted her yet that day, but here she was waiting for him at the usual studio, at the usual time. Part of her thought he might not come back at all, and it hurt to think that whatever happened between them was broken. 

After all, he had been a good dancing partner. He taught her how to stretch better, move more fluidly, and, most importantly, actually work with a partner. She’d been dancing for years, but always solo. With him it was easy, and he never got frustrated or upset with her. He was endlessly patient and kind, making sure to give her space to screw up and figure things out for herself before offering advice. Dancing with him was effortless, like dancing with a ghost that knew every step she would make. 

All day she’d worried that the night before hurt all of that. What ‘Cole’ said was reassuring, but not entirely. He still loved Ina, and love didn’t die easy.

As she switched to her other leg, she heard the door handle turning. Her ears perked and she sat up, watching as a tall, lean figure dressed in designer tapered sweatpants and a tight grey shirt stepped inside holding a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Solas looked somewhat nervous as he shut the door carefully behind him and walked toward her. She stood, confused. “Last night,” he started, but she shook her head.

“It’s okay. Just- forget it ever happened.” She smiled, trying to make him relax, but she could hardly focus with the stunning flowers staring back at her.

“I… can’t.” He sighed and held the flowers out to her, making her eyes widen like saucers. “I treated you badly. It was unworthy of me, and I am deeply sorry.” His voice was low and soft, like water falling into a deep cavern. “These are for you, lethallan. You deserve much more, and better.”

She swallowed hard and took the flowers, bringing them close to her blushing cheeks. With a small smile she breathed in their scent, blinking slowly. “They smell amazing.”

“They are fresh. A friend of mine is a florist, so I reached out to her for some of her best.” He looked down, then shook his head. “Still. You deserve even better. You have… put up with a lot from me as of late.”

“Seriously, Solas,” she said, laughing. “It’s fine.” She held the flowers close to her and smiled wider, shaking her head a bit. “Thank you. I don’t think anyone has given me flowers in years.”

He chuckled softly. “I find that hard to believe.”

“What, you think strippers get flowers?”

“I think beautiful women deserve flowers.”

Her breath caught in her throat and she almost choked on her words. It wasn’t what he said (if she had a dollar every time a man called her beautiful she’d be a very rich woman) but how he said it. His voice was captivating, and there was an unusual tenderness to his gaze that struck a cord deep in her chest. “What, some dead plant genitals?” She smirked, trying to recover. “We prefer french fries and fine wine.”

He snorted and shook his head, still looking at her with those soft, deadly eyes. “I’ll put that on my list for the next time I embarrass myself in your presence.”

They fell quiet then, for a time just long enough for her gaze to drift from his eyes to his lips. She wondered how they would feel against her own, how his tongue would brush hers and his hands would hold her hips. She knew he wanted her, but he would never let it show… or at least it seemed like never. She could do it though; she could bridge the gap. 

But maybe she didn’t want to -or she couldn’t want to. He was still in love with someone else, and she had bigger things to worry about, and besides he wasn’t all that great anyway. He was cold and self-serving and, above all, bald. Their conversations rarely consisted of anything more than polite discussion and whatever she could say about dancing this time. She didn’t even really know if they had anything in common besides apparently both being elvhen mages. 

He should have been easy to ignore, but her eyes followed his and her body longed for his touch. He made her warm; he made her frustrated. 

He stepped back and crossed the room, shifting to his knees to put on some warm-up music. Her eyes followed him, taking in his bare, muscular arms and the lean shape of his back. Her teeth sunk into her lower lip and she stood watching him, holding the flowers, her gaze falling even further to the tight round of his ass as he knelt down…

She turned quickly and shook her head, determined not to think about it anymore. She carefully laid the flowers beside her bag and drank several large gulps of water, already fully aware of how that view of him burned itself into her brain.

The music finally started and she exhaled slowly. She bent backward, hands on her lower back, and leaned until she heard a crack. With a heavy sigh she straightened, and heard a soft chuckling on the other side of the room.

“What?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him. 

He stepped close to her and took her hands. “Do you need more time to stretch?”

Her eyes flicked between their hands and his face. “No, I just need to start dancing.” She straightened her back and smiled at him. “Let’s begin.”

He nodded and gave her hand a slight squeeze. But even as they started she had trouble focusing, slipping up or forgetting the steps more often than usual. He was mostly able to compensate, but she could tell it was throwing him off too. Holding his hand was more difficult now, and looking into his eyes drew her attention in a way it never had. It was absurd for her to feel like this, for her to be so distracted and immature with someone she’d danced with dozens of times.

His hand tightened on hers and he moved with her, fluid and cautious and gentle. She closed her eyes and attempted to empty her mind, thinking only about the music and the steps he took.

As the first song ended she looked up at him, eyes narrowed slightly. Their faces were close together, just as they were the night before, but he didn’t pull away this time. He put one hand on her waist, gripping her, fingers grasping her body through her shirt. Her breathing came in shaky and slow, her face warm and flushed. 

A loud buzzing stirred her from her thoughts, and she cleared her throat quickly as she tried to keep up. She gripped his hand tighter and she shook her head, speaking before he could ask. “It’s nothing, probably just a spam caller.” But after one call ended, another started up immediately after. Eirwen rolled her eyes and apologized, stepping away from him to turn off her phone.

She knelt by her bag and picked up the golden smartphone, brows knit as she put in her pin and checked her notifications. There was one voicemail, three texts, and a frustrating four missed calls. Frowning, Eirwen shifted to cross her legs and sifted through the mess. They were all from an old friend of hers, someone she’d spent a lot of time with in the Circle before she graduated. 

“Something wrong?” Solas asked, and at first Eirwen didn’t say anything. She lifted the phone to her ear and listened to the voicemail, her breathing unsteady as her old friend’s voice crackled over the line.

“Um.” She shook her head and blinked rapidly, her heart rate picking up as she hung up the phone and put it in her pocket. “Right, well… I mean, it’s -it’s fine, but I think I might need to go.”

“Of course, but… is it something you wish to talk about?” 

She rapidly shook her head again and stood up, taking her bag with her. “My grandmother passed away,” she said simply, though their was something hollow in her voice. “She was really old, but, still… I need to go call a friend of mine.” She looked at him guiltily. “I’m sorry, I know this wasn’t what you expected.”

He frowned and stepped closer to her, putting a gentle hand on her arm. But she pulled away, determined not to accept any help. “Eirwen, you have nothing to worry about with me. If there is anything I can do to help, please say so.” 

She forced a smile and hitched her bag on to her shoulder. “Right, yeah. Really though, Solas, it’s okay.”

“It… does not seem okay.”

She sighed and looked at him, her dark brows perked unevenly. “Don’t worry. It sucks but… it’s really okay. I promise.” Then she walked past him, her footsteps small but quick on the linoleum floor. She said a quick goodbye and waved at him, then hurried outside to her car. 

It wasn’t until she was home and halfway through a long phone call that she realized she left the flowers Solas gave her in the studio.


	6. Chapter 6

The audience would never know what happened the night before. She moved like a wild animal, sweat glistening on her forehead as she dominated the eyes of everyone in the room. Flashing lights caught on the gleaming silver of her lingerie, reflecting off her metal hairpins. Somehow the music felt louder, pulsed in her veins, and even when she stood nearly-naked on the stage there was no doubt she had full control.

She leaned back against the pole, a slight smirk on her face as she slipped down and bent backward before collapsing into the stage. The crowd cheered her on in a deep, united baritone and if she let it surround her she would forget entirely what came before.

But she couldn’t forget. Still it lurked in her mind, tensing her heart when there was a lull. Despite all of her glory on the stage, she couldn’t ignore the pain of loss. She felt like she’d lost an arm.

Her heels clicked on the ancient hardwood as she returned to the dressing room, the congratulations of her fellow dancers sounding miles away. She sat down in her seat and methodically took wads of cash out of her clothes. The mirror showed a striking woman of power and confidence, a dominatrix of the stage and a queen in silver underwear. 

The green LED light on her phone blinked and she let out a shaky breath as she picked it up. Just a spam email. For a moment she closed her eyes, putting it back on her makeup counter and letting the atmosphere sink in.

A gentle, playful hand stroked her shoulders and she turned, raising an eyebrow. Behind her stood a tall Rivaini woman in a tight white dress. “Nice job out there, for a string bean.” She grinned at Eirwen and slid into the seat next to her, eyes flashing at the pile of cash on her coworker’s counter. “Maker’s Balls, you really dominated! Look at that.” She shook her head, admiration obvious. “You know what this means?” Eirwen raised an eyebrow. “You have to buy us both a very expensive dinner.”

Eirwen snorted and shook her head. “I think I need it to get to Denerim.” 

“No, gross.” The other dancer gave the idea a dismissive gesture and leaned back, putting her black boots up on her own table. “If you’re going to go anywhere, go to Starkhaven. Or maybe Ostwick.” She frowned, looking at Eirwen quizzically. “Why would you ever want to go to Denerim?”

“It’s a long, dumb story.” Eirwen pursed her lips and started to count out her cash. “You don’t want to hear it.”

“Eir!” The woman said suddenly, and Eirwen looked up, surprised. “How dare you!”

“What?”

“We’re friends. Remember that time I held your hair while you threw up in the bathroom?”

“No, but I remember doing that for you.”

“Exactly! True friendship.” She stood up, only confusing Eirwen more, and then, without warning sat on her. “I won’t get up until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Fuck! Maker’s breath, get your gigantic ass off me!” She struggled, trying to push the other woman off, but she just planted her feet and stayed where she was. 

“Nope.” She looked down at Eirwen with a playful smirk. “Otherwise you won’t tell me what’s going on with you.”

“Ugh, this is abuse.”

“Don’t be so dramatic.” She turned, perching on Eirwen’s right thigh.

“Ow… ngh, that hurts, Bela.”

“Too bad. Tell me.”

“I don’t think friendship is supposed to work like this,” Eirwen grunted before sighed and flopping back against her chair. “Whatever Bela, I’m fine. Really. Look how much money I have! I’m fine.”

“Are you having problems with your sugar daddy?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Eirwen blushed and rolled her eyes. “He isn’t, and no.”

“You’re blushing, though.”

“How can you even tell in this light?” Eirwen groaned, then sighed and met her friend’s eyes. “It’s not fun or gossip-y. It just sucks.” Bela shruggeded and Eirwen went on. “Someone I love very much passed away two nights ago. She was sort of my grandmother, but not technically.”

“Was it… something tragic?”

“No, she died in her sleep. She was pretty old, and she lived well, but… it still just sucks.” Eirwen shook her head and closed her eyes. “But it’s fine, really. It happens to everyone.”

Bela put her hand on the back of Eirwen’s head and gently tilted her up to meet her eyes. “Oh, Eir… Just because it happens to everyone doesn’t mean it has to be fine right away. That does suck, and if you need to take time off or anything you should.”

“No thanks.” She grimaced and shifted under her friend’s weight. “Not working will just make it worse. I don’t like to think about it.”

They didn’t get to talk much more; Bela’s turn was up soon, and Eirwen had one more ‘encore’ before they could all head home. After that it was late, nearly 2:30 in the morning, and more than anything Eirwen just wanted to shower and sleep. She collected her earnings and paid back the house before packing her things from her makeup table. There was a knock at the door, and she answered it with a curious expression. 

One of the bouncers stood on the other side, holding a familiar-looking bouquet of flowers. Eirwen flushed and took them, knowing immediately who they were from. “Your fan said you forgot those,” the bouncer said, looking confused. “Is he annoying you?”

“No,” she said with a sigh. “He’s a friend of mine, and I really did forget them. Is he still out there?”

“I think so. Want me to stop him?”

“Sure. I’ll get my things and meet him outside.”

She took her bag and put on her coat, then walked out into the chilly autumn night to meet with Solas. At first she didn’t see him, and worried he’d already left as she walked along the side of the club and hugged the flowers close to her chest. Her ears pricked at the sound of an oncoming car, and she instinctively grasped the pepper spray in her pocket. 

The car slowed, and when she saw it was Solas’s she immediately relaxed. “I see you found the flowers,” he said lightly, leaning over the passenger seat toward her. 

“Yes, Maker, I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, hugging them tightly. “I feel awful. I really, really did not mean to forget them. This means so much to me, honestly.” She stepped up to the window, frowning deeply.

Solas smiled and shook his head. “I understand entirely, lethallan. You lost someone close to you; I can’t possibly blame you for being distracted.”

Her ears drooped and she swallowed hard, glancing away for a moment. “Thank you for putting them in water… the vase is really lovely.”

“This way they’ll live when you forget them again.”

“Oh, shut up,” she said, smiling despite herself. “But, uh, yeah. Thank you. Again.”

“Would you like to find somewhere to eat, Eirwen?” He looked calm, his features relaxed and his smile slight. The way the light reflected off his face made his eyes look bright and lively. “That diner nearby should be open.”

“Are you hungry?” She could smell the flowers, and the fresh scent briefly overwhelmed her senses. She blinked slowly, then shifted her weight and considered his offer.

“A bit. But are you not?” He nodded to her outfit and she smirked. “Your dancing was particularly breathtaking tonight.”

“So, what? You still can’t breathe?” She asked, raising an eyebrow.

He laughed softly and shook his head, looking up at her with that smirk and those slightly narrowed eyes that made her heart flutter. She fought the urge to pull away and stared at him, her gaze level with his and the flowers held close to her chest. “You did not answer my question, da’len.”

She swallowed hard. “What… what question?”

“Do you want to get something to eat?”

“I -yes!” Immediately she stepped back, shaking her head, feigning discomfort with him. “Maker, you’re so pushy.”

He chuckled softly and got out to open her door, putting a gentle hand on her back. His touch was like an electric spark on her spine, and she straightened suddenly, glancing up at him. He said nothing and lead her inside before getting back in himself. For the brief few moments that she sat alone in the car her eyes widened and she took a deep breath. This was no different from any other outing they had, from any other random night out together.

He sat down and started the car. “Look, I… I really am sorry about leaving so suddenly before. It was… rude, and unprofessional.” He opened his mouth to speak, but she went on before he could interject. “I’m dedicated to this. To our dancing, and to this competition. I’m not going to give up no matter what happens, I promise.”

Solas put the car in reverse and turned around in his seat as he started backing out. “Well… I am glad for that, of course, but you should not stress yourself over it.” He looked at her, worry creasing his brows. “Will there be a service?”

“Yes, but… I don’t think I’ll go.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’d rather go with you to the competition.”

“You… think the two will overlap?”

She nodded, pursing her lips and turning to look out the window. “Most likely.”

“Eirwen,” he said, his voice suddenly harder. “You cannot skip the funeral.”

“Why not? It’s not like I’ll miss much. I kind of get the picture, of how it works.” She shrugged and fiddled with her necklace. “There’s a dead person, you talk about how great they were, and a Sister says some prayers. Then they put the dead person in the ground and you make awkward small talk until it’s socially acceptable to go home.”

“It was blatantly obvious before that you care about this person.” He pulled out of the parking lot and on to the main road, shaking his head. “I refuse to be any part of the reason you do not go.”

“Okay, well, how about I can’t afford it? The funeral sure as shit won’t be in Orlais.”

“You cannot afford it?” He gave her a dry, sideways glance. “You would if you didn’t spend your paycheck on liquor.”

She laughed bitterly. “I don’t get a paycheck; creepy dudes just shove cash into my underwear.”

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

Eirwen groaned and threw up her hands. “Can’t it be enough that I just don’t want to go?”

“Do you really think I’m creepy?” He asked, watching the road with a slight frown.

With a heavy sigh, Eirwen fidgeted in her seat and turned to face him, leaning her cheek into the seat behind her. “If I did, I wouldn’t have gotten into your car.”

“I suppose that’s true.” He stopped at a red light, then relaxed in his seat and looked at her again. “Regardless, I refuse to be a reason why you won’t go.”

“You’re not. The dancing is.”

“But you’re dancing with me, Eirwen.”

“Okay, but like… I’m not doing it because of you.”

“I know that, but I simply- I do not understand why you won’t go. I can give you the money if necessary, that isn’t a problem.”

“Why do you want me to go so badly?” Her voice arched in exasperation and the light changed. He drove forward, eyes narrowing at her tone. “It doesn’t affect you at all. It’s not your problem, and it’s not really your business either.”

“Except that it worries me. I know you don’t have a lot of family, and I would hate for you to regret missing out on the chance to say goodbye.” He sighed and visibly forced himself to relax. “I truly do not mean to intrude, and of course it is your decision, but I do not want there to be any obstacle that I could prevent.” He paused, waiting for a response, but she said nothing. He glanced sideways to see her staring out the window, her ears drooping. “Is money really the problem?”

She dropped her head back against the seat, then reached up to fidget with her hair. “There will be… people there. People I don’t want to see.”

“Like… whom?”

“People that… I don’t know.” She finally looked at him, and on the silent streets he pulled up to a stop sign and met her gaze in the dark. “Would you want to explain to the people you grew up with that you take your clothes off for money?”

He frowned, shaking his head. “That is not all you do. I know you take more pride in your work than that.”

“Around most people, yes. But… it’s different there. I’d feel like… like I’m not living up to what she wanted for me.” Her voice fell and she swallowed hard, then said nothing for a long time. Solas let her have her silence, frowning at the road before them as he turned into the shopping center with the diner they’d visited so many times. When he glanced at her again she was chewing on one of her fingernails, jaw set and eyes cast down at the glove box.

He parked and turned off the engine, then sat back in the seat and watched her. When he spoke, he kept his voice just as low as hers had been, one hand on the wheel, tone measured and gentle. “If these are people who you have not spoken to in years, why does it matter what they think of you?” His eyes flicked to the side, then back to her, and he took a shaky breath before going on. “You love this woman, you deserve to pay your respects to her as much as anyone else.”

“She was-” Eirwen started, then stopped again and shook her head. “I don’t know why I’m bothering you with this.” She relaxed suddenly and forced a toothless smile, looking at him. “I’m sorry. It’s not- you don’t need to hear about it.”

“Eirwen…”

“Really. You shouldn’t have to worry about me. Not… like that.”

“I do,” he said, offended. “Of course I do. I should think, at the very least, that we are friends.”

“We are friends, but it’s still not- you’re not that- you have bigger things to worry about.”

“Is that what you think?” He asked, and she gave him a confused look. “That I only care about you as far as it affects our dancing?”

“No, it’s not. I don’t think that.” She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, frustration lacing her tone. “But we aren’t normal friends, are we? You pay me to take off my clothes for you. You pay me to spend time with you. Why would I think you want anything else from me besides what affects our dancing?”

He swallowed hard, his words stolen out of his mouth. He shook his head slightly and let his hand drop from the steering wheel. She realized she’d said something wrong, that she’d hurt him by finally bringing up a truth neither wanted to confront. She turned her gaze and looked down at her hands. 

“I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No. You are right.” He exhaled slowly. “I have not… I have not been as respectful to you as I should have.”

“That’s not true. That’s not true at all.”

“It is true. I am… so sorry.” His breathing quickened and she heard the change in his voice, how it fell to a soft, deeply regretful whisper. “I am so sorry.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. You are wonderful to me, you always have been.”

“That is not true, though.” He cleared his throat, struggling to keep the pain from his voice. “I mistreated you. I want to be here for you, but I have treated this relationship as a means to an end. I do not feel that way, Eirwen, you are… so much more to me than that.” 

Her heart raced and she frowned, trying to see his expression in the dark. “You have been extremely kind to me. I know you care about me, I don’t… I don’t want you to feel bad about any of this.”

“It is not your fault, Eirwen. You deserve better, and I should have given you that.” 

She opened her mouth to protest when a sudden crash tore their attention toward the diner. Someone had thrown a rock into the window, shattering the glass and setting off a loud alarm. They watched, confused, as a group of teenagers laughed and sprinted away from the scene. The diner’s manager, a wide dwarf with a short black beard, ran outside and shouted at them, gesturing broadly and angrily.

Eirwen smirked, hardly fazed by the alarming violence. Solas looked a bit more shaken, blinking at the sight as the manager examined the damage. “Looks like they could use some business,” she observed, and Solas nodded absently. “It’s a good thing I’m hungry now.”

He frowned, having difficulty tearing his eyes off the broken window. “Uh… yes, I suppose so.”

She grabbed his arm, making him jump and look at her. “Come on. I think we’ll both feel better after we get something to eat.”

“We’re… going inside?”

She looked back in the direction the vandals went and shrugged. “Well, it’s not like they’re coming back.” Smirking, determined to use this opportunity to change the subject, she gave his arm a tug. “But if they do, I’ll make sure to protect you.”

That made him smile, and he gave her a sideways glance. “Is that so?” He tensed his arm under her hold, sending a blush over her cheeks. 

“Of course. I’m very intimidating.”

He chuckled and shook his head, reaching behind him to open the door. “Very.” 

They both headed outside. As soon as she rejoined him she took his arm again, smiling up at him. For a moment he looked about to pull away, but he stopped. She felt him relax in her hold, though still she felt tension. This was not a solution, not yet; it was a start.


End file.
